The second phone call — Nahrizul Adib Kadri

September 15 — Prior to smartphones and instant messaging, telephone conversations required an intermediary to connect callers. In November 1999, during Malaysia's 10th general election, I was one of many university students returning to my hometown, Pontian. My wife, already old enough to vote, had not registered in Kuala Lumpur yet.

We had secretly decided to become a couple just a month earlier on October 10, 1999; it felt like an eternity apart. That same afternoon, the phone rang again and my mother answered. She mentioned, with amusement, that it wasn't the previous call and asked what more Adib wanted to discuss. I do not recall the exact details of our conversation during the second call.

What remains clear is my mother's presence during this mildly embarrassing moment, as she teased us and hoped we would grow out of it. Now almost 25 years married, we fondly recall this moment occasionally, laughing at how awkward we were once upon a time. This story was not initially significant, but it has resurfaced more frequently lately, now that my mother has passed away.

We often forget the ordinary moments that shape our lives, such as mundane conversations and playful remarks. However, some of the most cherished memories are those that seem too ordinary to merit attention. These seemingly insignificant moments become the ones we would relish the chance to relive. The election results now appear on our phones, and life has been kinder than we could have imagined.

But when I think back to those days, I do not remember the election; instead, it is the second phone call and the voice that answered it that I hold dear.